Mayfly
by Countess Millarca
Summary: It is better to dwell in a hopeless dream than have no dream or hope at all - come what may. One Last God Kubera. Teo Rakan/Gandharva.


**Disclaimer: I do not own One Last God Kubera. All rights belong to Currygom.**

The first time Teo lays eyes on him, she knows him for what he truly is. Danger. Deep sea tinted gaze and siren lure and terrifying beauty – much too painful for mortal eyes to behold. Strange gentleness dwells in his cyan depths, deceptive. Breakable. Teo cannot tell if it is a subconscious reaction or a calculative act on his part, but it makes no difference. All she knows is that she does not regret the reckless gamble she takes at that moment, even if she later has to pay the heaviest price for the barest caress of his clandestine gaze.

Eye heavy lidded and lips leisurely curved, he tilts his neck towards her in an elegant arc, and Teo cannot help but linger when she sees herself reflected in abysmal waters. She likens them to an ancient ocean, threatening to drown her if she dares venture too deep, beyond her mortal bounds. Shades of royal-blue and ice-green captivate her vision, yet lethal red lurks around the edges. Dark blood shimmers crimson against the paleness of his skin and she discards all useless thought at once.

It is a real pity he cannot grant her a name to call him by as he claims lethe when she asks, but he does not need one in truth. He is perfection, and perfection needs neither name nor memory – it simply _is_. Teo takes him to _her_ city, to _her_ healers, to _her_ home, with no more questions asked. He is quiet and courteous and listens to her voice with deliberate intrigue when she speaks – and Teo _loves_ that. Tendrils of noble regality cloak every motion he does and every word he utters. Slowly, almost instinctively, she comes to regard him as a being who naturally possesses a higher quality – a king.

Unaware of the _why _or _how _or _when_, Teo shares aching fragments of her shadowy past with him; she answers the subtlety of his delving questions with cutting honesty, but it does not hurt as much as she expects. No – not nearly enough. His visible eye is aglow with knowing torment and she finds solace in his azure painted silence. Sympathy is not a foreign sentiment to her, after all. Teo indulges in compassion on a constant basis, sponsoring abandoned children, even adopting a daughter of her own, wishing to fulfill a deeply rooted craving, yet she has never been the recipient of it, only the giver. Attraction is not born of empathy, she knows, but she feels grateful to her merciful nature despite her ill-fated luck.

_Nastika._

_Gandharva_.

What terrible luck she has indeed.

The day the lake of reflection reveals his well guarded secret is the day Teo wishes to erase, to forget. Kali is undeniably a cruel goddess, befitting the title of chaos – for even her _gifts_ are designed to cause bleak agony. Perfection _does_ have a name, but it is not a name _she_ can utter. Daring to speak his name will shatter the precious delusion she has allowed him to wrap her in so securely all this time – and Teo _hates _that. Melodious laughter spills from her lips as she finally sees the silky webs holding her prisoner to his forbidden charm, yet there is no joy in the hollow sound. Does he seek demise, desire death? For whom? Her people, _her_? Teo cannot fathom his heart's motives even, though, he must surely understand hers with painful clarity – and, so, she pursues him blindly.

Uncaring of shame, she listens to the lulling cadence of his voice as he reveals truths that hurt worse than his lies. A perfect stranger is whom he chooses to confide in – and this hurts even more. However, Teo grants pardon to this slight because she cannot truly blame him, nor does she wish to. Her chest is laden with heaviness, breath struggles in her lungs, and she averts her eyes to relieve the burden in her heart. Futile. Bitterness and sweetness lead her aimless steps while she wanders in a city she knows, yet her eyes cannot recognize. A ray of sapphire light shatters the dimness of her gaze when she regains her senses – and Teo sees a _king_ at her feet. She would have thought him cold as ice if not for the searing warmth invading her senses when he dusts her pant leg. His soft touch burns like slow fire, seeping through the thick fabric to bathe her in rapture, but it is his devastatingly beautiful smile that seals her voice.

_Gandharva –_

Teo chants his name – again, and again, and again – yet the hallowed sounds never escape past her lips, never reach his ears. _No_ – she keeps his name to herself because she treasures this transient moment far too much to ruin it with the foul taste of reality. He is a Nastika King and she is a Priestess of Chaos, creatures never meant to exchange such illicit glances, but she pretends they are _Gandharva_ and _Teo_ – a _man_ and a _woman_. Surely, the gods will allow such a small favor, even the heartless Kali. They will be King and Priestess once more. _Tomorrow_. _Not tonight_.

The gods are not the benevolent beings Teo has vainly strived to make them be nor do they yield for the pleading of mortals, however. She should have known there would be a price for dallying with divine danger; and in the deepest confines of her soul she already does. If she has indulged a grave sin then Teo is willing to compensate for her alleged crime – the crime of being a _woman_. Dignity. Courage. Valor. The warrior residing within her body lives and abides by their essence, but she is a woman. And she has fallen victim to the predominant fate of their kind – to love a man. That her chosen man happens to be an unattainable dream she revels for a fleeting time is merely a whimsical coincidence.

…_What hopeless dreams _

_I dreamed._

_Ah…_

_I'm glad…_

_Maybe the weren't so hopeless…_

… _after all._

**Word Count: 1000**


End file.
